


Bed Rest

by Pugcifer



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Curly Fries, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Grumpy Derek, Humor, Idiots in Love, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Married Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, mentions of Erica - Freeform, mentions of Scott - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:20:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29096424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pugcifer/pseuds/Pugcifer
Summary: Stiles: I'm sorry I let you goDerek: [Scowls]Stiles: It's just that we've been cuddling for 12 hours Der. I need to pee.Derek: [Scowls harder]- found on tumblr by abominable-snowman-stilinski
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 4
Kudos: 203





	Bed Rest

**Author's Note:**

> Found this on tumblr and got inspired to write a short piece on it. Hope you enjoy!!!!

The alarm next to the bed blinks as it changes from 5:59am to 6:00am. Its red glow is an unpleasant reminder of the most recent big bad that Beacon Hills faced. Each flash of a new minute brings the image of red eyes to Stiles’ mind. A wave of fear building in his throat at each blink. An image of Erica tossed into a tree, Scott being dropped off a roof, the jeep having its tires slashed. Each memory bearable only by the memory of the other pack being taken down, of them losing the fight. 

Stiles flips his head to face the other direction on the pillow. He reaches out to brush Derek’s shoulder and touches soft material before the man flips over to put his back to Stiles. Stiles drops his hand and sighs. The memory of the other pack is chasing his thoughts in circles and he just wants to cuddle with his husband and forget everything. But said husband is being a grump. 

“Derek,” He puts his hand on the tense shoulder again, this time moving faster so the other man can’t roll away. Speed doesn’t stop Derek from hunching in on himself, angrily pretending to still be asleep. Stiles rolls his eyes when he hears a fabricated snore. 

With a smirk he feigns concern and says, “Seems the Richardson pack has healed your snore, I was so worried about how much it was increasing these past few months”

Derek immediately flips over, glaring directly at Stiles who can’t help but start to laugh. The only response is a deeper glare and slight blush hinting on Derek’s cheeks. Stiles brushes one finger over a pink cheek and Derek huffs and crosses his arms over himself. 

“Derek.” The werewolf’s eyes move to the ceiling, but at least he hasn’t turned away again.

“I’m sorry, okay?” Stiles lifts himself up on one elbow to lean over his husband. Derek makes brief eye contact and lifts a skeptical eyebrow. Stiles wants to trace the angry line that his fuzzy eyebrow has made but refrains, knowing it will just result in more silence and death glares. 

“I am. I am very sorry that I let you go Der.” Stiles looks into his eyes, trying to impart all the sincerity of the world into his words. Trying to maintain it long enough to keep the laughter at bay. Derek’s face seems to soften for a second. “It’s just that we’ve been cuddling for twelve hours now, Derek. I really needed to go pee.” 

Any softness Stiles’ imagined on his husband’s face has vanished. His jaw clenches and he turns over again, knocking roughly into Stiles’ lifted shoulder when he does. 

“Derek!” He yelps, falling back into the bed and conveniently half on the angry man. Stiles decides to mimic an octopus wrapping its arms around a block of marble. “Come on! I said I was sorry!” 

Stiles focuses on staring into the little hairs on the back of Derek’s head, still wrapped up and vaguely uncomfortable. But staring keeps away the memories of the last week and he’s been trapped in bed too long to go back to sleep. What pack even picks a fight in broad daylight, they would get both better stealth and aesthetics waiting till dark! Besides there is decreased risk of ruining someone’s lunch when hijinks take place at midnight. But noooo, the Richardson’s are too rude to wait and had to smash his perfect plate of curly fries to the ground to make a point. 

He’s still bemoaning the loss of his fries when Derek deflates beneath him. An arm wraps around his waist and pulls until Stiles falls to the other side of the bed and is suddenly the focus of an octopus hug of his own. A smile slowly pulls across his face as Derek’s eyes peer into his own. Stiles resists the urge to boop Derek on the nose, instead leaning in for a soft kiss. Brief and barely there, just enough of a reminder that Derek is here and isn’t leaving anytime soon to send a wave of warmth through his body. 

“Am I forgiven?” He keeps his voice soft, not wanting to ruin the gentleness of the moment. Derek rolls his eyes and pushes his head down to rest between Stiles’ neck and the pillow. 

“You’re forgiven.” The muffled words nearly make Stiles’ jump up in excitement but Derek tightens his arms. “You aren’t getting out of a week of bedrest though, I’m not risking Melissa’s wrath.” 

Stiles pouts but contents himself with pulling Derek in closer and enjoying the warm weight of his husband laying on him. The memories of the Richardson pack and lost curly fries gradually fades and Stiles feels sleep pulling at him again. He supposes he can wait a few more hours until he tests this whole ‘bedrest’ policy again. It’s not like Derek is really expecting him to stay in bed the _entire_ week, right? 

  
  



End file.
